A bird in hand - Zaagkuildrift

Pearl-spotted Owl

We were pulled-over by an admin. account dressed in pimples & sailing at full-mast with an old bangerful of friends. Foregoing the usual how-de-dos & the other social subtleties that define good-breeding, we humoured the pseudo-intellectual & drilled down to sub-species for a Yellow Wagtail we'd 'seen' earlier.

Designed to put me in my place, the interrogation was accompanied by sniggers from the juvenile squad in-back; fun to anticipate... High in impudence & low on wit, this macher is symptomatic of SA twitching often feral & rancid.

Nobody gets a pass but if the middle-finger resides somewhere in the correct answer, then I guess we had the last laugh.

Ridiculous

I don't want to dwell on the riddikulus - (good people, bird) - but when I see "last seen at about 06h45 after which it disappeared and has not been seen since" [SA Rare Birds], I tend to revert to the mean of 'who dunnit?'. 

Don't kid yoursel'.     Some-dimwit-did.

One or two years ago, I pooh-poohed Birdlife SA's concerns on 'birding with a camera ' & ' the lost art of field-observation ' - fair bunkum, prima facie, or so I thought. Turns out I was wrong.

Endemic in the system is the inferred right of access covered in the Ts & Cs of "My Camera & I" - self-promotion that vindicates Birdlife's concern & more's the pity; a knob does not a photographer make.

Most laughable are the copyright watermarks splashed across photos that can only be described as once seen / forgotten. Why average point-&-shoot photography courts fame in emperor's new clothes, beats me.

That said, occasionally we get out far enough to see the birds; not having had the chance for much since autumn.

In the field 'learning'

Zaagkuilsdrift, on the Limpopo / North West border, is purity in a bottle & we took along a bib & spoon for as much as we could get. We doubled the calories and packed the nets. There are few joys, in-hand, better than a bird in full HD.

We stayed at Wolfhuiskraal, the area's grand old dame - and the holiday-home of rare birds & the not-so-secret jewel of the drift. Why anybody would stay anywhere else, boggles, to say the least. 

Complain bitterly if you're taken elsewhere! 

At Wolfhuis, punters have free access, functional facilities and an unrestricted view of peace & quiet. It's a moment of random joy. 

As these things go, the weather turned bitter. The wind was more than a zephyr and the rain lashed dust, then mud onto anything we cared to slip & show. We should have done a cool running in nix but nought - these plains hold that joy in early summer; but courage balks @peepers-in-de-bush and the thought of thorns & satellites. 'Another time' perhaps / never comes.

Bacon on the hoof

In the periods between squalls, however, we featured owls, finches, waxbills, shrikes, starlings et al and a Duroc / F1-cross. The birds we banded (ringed); the sow we coveted on a plate with eggs but left her to her own; the sternest of warnings notwithstanding.

Regrettably, the weather extended into the early evening and put a damper on the itinerary's 'starlit' fire-side hot chocolate & a tale. 

The same development voided front-seat tickets to the late night's owling session. Fortunately, the pitter patter, on old thatch, filled our cups to overflowing - treasure banked for when next we're ambushed by Sir Dancelot on a quest for status; but take heed, my friend - Motacilla flava flava is easier on the eye than it would be wedged in your craw.